Bear hug: Guelph embraces its Begging Bear

("Begging bear" dressed for Canada Day, 2009. Photo by Allan MacKeeman. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F70-0-2-0-0-16.)

The body was found lying on the ground in front of the Macdonald Stewart Art Gallery (now the Art Gallery of Guelph) shortly before midnight on the night of Friday, 18 March 2011. Not long before, a gang of ruffians had descendend on the victim, knocking him down from his pedestal, taking pictures of themselves standing over him, and then fleeing the scene.

("The Begging Bear, uprooted and temporarily relocated inside the Macdonald Stewart Art Centre," 21 March 2011. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)

The victim was a character widely known and admired in the city of Guelph, the Begging Bear.

Eyewitnesses testified that a group of men had been seen jumping on the bear, causing the bronze animal to sway back and forth until the concrete pins that connected him to his footing shattered, thus toppling him over (Mercury, 22 March 2011). Besides taking pictures of themselves in the act, mud found on the side of the bear suggested that the perpetrators had tried to drag the body away though, weighing in at more than 300 pounds, their attempts were stymied.

Characterizing the deed as a "senseless act of vandalism," Guelph police questioned witnesses and scoured social media for clues. The townsfolk were scandalized. Shocked citizens wrote to the Gallery to find out what had happened and where the bear had gone. Happily, Aiden Ware, then co-ordinator of education and development at the art centre, could tell them that the bear had been retrieved by the Gallery and was awaiting rehabilitation.

("Begging bear," ca. 2010. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2013.51.145.)

As an anonymous letter to the Mercury (22 March 2011) noted, reaction to his toppling revealed the Bear's significance to the community:

The extent of the upset over this marring of this public artwork is quite incredible. Perhaps, however, for the thousands who typically pass by it and note its latest look, the extent of the attachment for the bear comes as no surprise. Hundreds of people have interacted with the bear: dressed it; adorned it; photographed it. It has become part of many community statements, causes and celebrations. It has been a sort of mascot in the battle against the spread of AIDS-HIV, a statement of boosterism for various teams, a kiddie art camp canvass - among many other things.

It's just a sculpture and not. In many ways, this bear has become an honorary citizen, an ambassador, a vestige of Guelph and even beyond that—something that comforts the city, adds to its character and provides it creative oxygen.

Others wrote in to suggest ironically that the men who did the deed were heroes who had saved the city from an importunate artwork, or that the Bear had attacked them first so that they merely acted in self-defence.

The Begging Bear was sent to the Artcast foundry in Georgetown, where his wounds would be healed, some dings and scratches repaired, a nice black patina applied. Given his importance to the populace, it was decided that the Bear would be returned to his spot in front of the art centre but fitted with a new and more resiliant base to ensure that the Bear would not have to endure another toppling.

("Raise the bear" flyer for the "Share your care for our bear!" campaign. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of Guelph.)

The bill for the work was in excess of $11,000, of which only $4,500 was covered by insurance (Mercury, 11 July 2011). So, the Centre held a fundraising campaign entitled "Share Your Care for Our Bear." Donations were generous and the full amount, plus a little to help out other deserving artworks, was raised.

(The Begging Bear is placed on his new plinth ahead of its re-unveiling. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of Guelph.)

The Begging Bear was back in place in time for a re-introduction cermemony on 1 October 2011, in front of an appreciative crowd. And there he remains to this day.

The full name of this sculpture is the Canadiana/Begging Bear, created by artist Carl Skelton. In 1995, Skelton created the first iteration of the bear for an exhibition entitled "Wild Life" curated by John Massler of the Koffler Gallery, Toronto. This Bear was made of urethane foam, autobody filler, and aluminum and stood 77 inches (195 cm) tall. In keeping with the exhibition theme, the Bear was intended to reflect one of the original and wild denizens of the Toronto region. (Thus the "Canadiana" in the name.) It was duly exhibited in the Toronto Sculpture Garden.

("Canadiana/Begging Bear" exhibited at the Toronto Sculpture Garden, ca. 1998. Photo by W.N. Greer.)

However, the form of Bear was modeled not on any natural pose but on a posture a taxidermist would choose. Even so, the smooth face and upturned paw depart from the bared teeth and claws one might expect from a stuffed bruin. Instead of making viewers feel like they should prepare to flee from an attack, the begging posture invites them to approach.

("Macdonald Stewart Art Centre," ca. 2000 by Fred Dahms. Courtesy of the Guelph Civic Museums, 2013.51.105.)

Perhaps it was this quality that attracted the interest of the Art Centre. There, the Donald Foster Sculpture Park had been instituted in 1983 on the grounds of the Centre as a place for artistic activities and public artworks. The Begging Bear seemed like a good fit, so a bronze version was cast and installed in a particularly public location, near a busy Gordon street sidewalk and a well-used bus stop. It was almost as if the new denizen was begging for attention.

(Carl Skelton poses with his Canadian/Begging Bear sculpture at its official unveiling, 1999. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of Guelph.)

The Begging Bear was officially unveiled at 7:30pm on 23 September 1999, with Carl Skelton in attendance.

It took little time for the citizenry to relate to the Bear. Less than a year later, the Mercury showed a picture of the Bear wearing a nice necktie, with the comment (16 June 2000):

The Begging Bear statue outside the MacDonald Stewart Art Gallery was spiffed up on Thursday with a necktie. The bear, with outstretched hand, has been spotted variously holding everything from snowballs to loose change since it was installed last fall.

As many Guelphites know from personal experience, the Bear has been dressed in many ways for many occasions since that time. It would be quite a daunting task to catalogue them.

("Carl Skelton: Canadiana/Begging Bear. 1995—1999, bronze, 6.4' x 3.3' x 2.0'." Postcard produced 2004.)

Happily, the Centre chose to spread the fame of the Bear through the medium of postcards. A set of cards was ordered late in 2003 and, no doubt, made their way into the gift shop early in 2004. The image shows the bear leaning forward as if to reach outside the frame of the postcard, making a request of some unseen passer by.

(Begging bear in a crate, 2021. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of Guelph.)

After its toppling in 2011, perhaps the most noted public intervention with the Begging Bear was the time it was crated. In July 2021, the Bear was found to be encased in a wooden crate, with only his begging arm sticking out (Mercury, 24 August 2021). Stapled to the crate were what appeared to be police citations for "solicitation in aggressive manner." An "eviction notice" and a "notice to vacate" were also attached, stating that the "homeless" bear was no longer permitted to occupy the sculpture park.

The crating was part of an artist's protest against the criminalization of homelessness. Happily, the Bear was not actually evicted and the crating was later removed.

(Guerilla postcard of the Begging Bear in a crate, 2021. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of Guelph.)

However, the artist also took a photo of the crated Bear, printed postcards of it, and snuck them into the Art Gallery's gift shop, placing them there as if they were part of the regular merchandise. Once the ruse was discovered, it was decided to let people take them at no charge if they wished, while a copy was kept for the Gallery's collection.

(Picasso bear, no date. Courtesy of the Art Gallery of Guelph.)

It's interesting to pause and consider the Bear's place in the history of Guelph's public art. In 1999, he joined a group of statuary including the Blacksmith Fountain, Old Jeremiah, and the Fountain Family. Later members include the Guelph Gryphon and the John McCrae statue at the Civic Museum. So, the Begging Bear is in good company but he remains, arguably, pre-eminent among them. He's just so approachable in so many ways.

("He?" you may ask? Many mentions of the Begging Bear in print use the masculine gender. I have yet to see anyone use "she" or "her." Perhaps it's the dad bod?)

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The Begging Bear has endured its many "interventions," including his 2011 toppling, with panache and good grace. With luck, he will continue to grace his central place in the land and minds of Guelphites for years to come.

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(Courtesy of Google Street View.)

On the fifth anniversary of the toppling of the Bear, Bill Bean asked creator Carl Skelton what he thought of the Guelph public's relationship with the bear, as revealed by his many costume changes and their response to his toppling. Skelton made some interesting observations, which I will quote here (Mercury, 28 January 2016):

The creator of the Begging Bear, Toronto-born artist Carl Skelton, is "thrilled" that this love affair has happened, although perhaps, he is not that surprised.
Skelton is industry professor and the founding director of the Brooklyn Experimental Media Center and the academic programs in integrated digital media at the Polytechnic Institute of New York University.
Skelton saw the potential for "playful relationships" with the sculpture when the bear was first installed briefly in the Toronto Sculpture Garden, that happened to include a pathway commonly used by homeless people. Skelton says he wasn't sure then what the response would be from the panhandling public to a panhandling bear. But they embraced Bear as one of their own.
Public art has its pitfalls, says Skelton: "Public art can be alienating." When the Macdonald Stewart gallery sought to acquire the Begging Bear, he suspected that a university city like Guelph might result in "grass skirts and coconut bras" for the bear. And, he wondered about the "awkward relationship" with a panhandling bear outside a public institution. But Skelton says the Begging Bear is a Guelph success story.
"Ultimately, the bear succeeds or fails as a personification of the public-ness of the people. The things that people do to, with, or around the bear is a public gesture. Investing in it, to begin with, is a public gesture; taking a picture with it is a public gesture."
Skelton says the real story of the Begging Bear is how the incident united citizens in Guelph. "The whole town got together - you respected yourselves. The public art wasn't the bear - it was the story you built when something bad happened to it.
"The bear has done a better-than-average job of representing you folks (of Guelph) to each other. It represents Guelph to Guelph."

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("Stuffed grizzly bear," courtesy of Cristie Guevara.)

Among other things, the Begging Bear is meant to remind us that bears were once denizens of the land where we live now. When thinking of this, I am reminded of a local bear story related by Charles McTague, scion of the McTague family after whom McTague street was named. He was born in Guelpn in 1837 and lived in town his whole life. The Mercury (2 March 1916) asked him for some reminiscences of the town's early days, and the following bear story was among them:

“Don’t put this down,” said Mr. McTague, “because no one will believe it, but it is true. In those days there were a lot of rough-cast houses at the corner of Norfolk and Cork streets, where Maurice O’Connor afterwards built his terrace, and Jack Henry kept a boot and shoe store there. On the opposite side of Norfolk street, on the Convent grounds, there was a rail fence enclosing a field of grain. While the shoemakers were working at Henry’s one day a friend came around and stood in the doorway and engaged in the conversation. His eyes were red, and I guess he had been boozing the night before. This man looked across the street and saw something in the grain field. He asked, “What is that, in the grain?” and then said, “I’m going over to see.” He went over to the field, and came running back with eyes sticking out of his head, and said, “It’s a bear.” Well, one picked up a boot, another a “tree,” someone else a hammer, and they went off after the bear. George Perkins was the only man in the party who had a shot gun. They chased the bear down toward Presant’s mill, up toward the Eramosa bridge, and out to the bush at St. Joseph’s hospital. And do you know, Perkins stepped on the bear. Well, he got so excited that he kicked it and threw down the shot gun.”
“Did they get the bear?” asked the reporter.
“No,” said Mr. McTague, laughing, “it got away.”
“Years afterwards, I asked Perkins if it was true that he threw away the gun and kicked the bear. He laughed and said, “Yes, as true as it is that I am standing here.”

The next time you see the Begging Bear, bear this little story in mind.

No pickles and no pudding: Merry Xmas 1907, Guelph!

The end of 1907 brought the annual international convention of the Women's Institute to Guelph. Audiences jammed into the lecture hall in Massey Hall on the Ontario Agricultural College (OAC) to hear speakers hold forth on topics of special interest to women. On the morning of 12 December, for example, speakers prescribed proper nourishmen of children, in both mind and body. Miss Aikens of Detroit stated that (Globe, 13 December):

No soothing syrups should be given to babies, and she emphasized the danger of allowing too many people to kiss babies.

This seems like sound advice, especially considering that "soothing syrups" of the era could well contain uncontrolled amounts of narcotics or alcohol. Soothing? Yes. Healthy? Not so much. The prohibition on kissing probably reflects the recent ascendance of the germ theory of disease, on which illnesses were held to be caused by infections of microscopic organisms, a theory that still prevails today.

("Massey Hall and Library, O.A.C.," #173 of the International Stationary Co. series on Guelph, ca. 1910.)

Miss Watson, principal of the Macdonald Institute associated with the OAC, articulated advice particularly a propos of the holiday season:

"Don’t train children to drink tea, coffee, or any other stimulant. Don't teach them to eat highly-seasoned foods, and up to fourteen years anyway forbid pickles and highly-seasoned foods, and forbid rich foods, such as pastry, puddings and cakes.” Miss Watson stated that the time was very opportune for speaking of feeding children, as a great deal of the sickness which followed Christmas among children was due to the stuffing on Christmas day. Instead of giving children plum pudding and mince pie, she suggested that a pretty dessert be prepared, plain, but wholesome, which the children would enjoy.

No soothing syrups, no stimulants, no pickles, no stuffing, no pastries, no cake, and no pie. And no fun.

The Women's Institute was (and remains) an association that advocated for women's issues, founded in 1897 in Stoney Creek by Adelaide Hoodless. Branches quickly spread throughout the Dominion and abroad. Ms. Hoodless was also the prime mover behind the foundation of the Macdonald Institute, which aimed to teach young women skills they would need to run modern households. It was hoped that such training would help to stem the tide of young women leaving rural Canada for its cities, where jobs as bookkeepers, store clerks, telephone operators, and so on, beckoned them away from the farm.

(In fact, it was just at this time that the population of Ontario went from being mostly rural to mostly urban, with more residents living in cities than outside of them.)

Besides domestic issues, the convention included some remarks on the place of women in political life:

Mr. C.C. James ... charged the women to look after the proper training of children, and instead of dabbling in politics, endeavoring to break up men’s meetings or agitating for suffrage, to see that the home life was made as educating as possible.

Ten years later, women gained the right to vote for the first time in Canada.

The postcard craze of the era continued to gain momentum, with many Guelphites sending postcards to touch base during the holiday season. One such card featured a picture of the new Carnegie Library in Guelph, the front of which was featured in an earlier blog post on that structure.

Obviously, this card was not designed to be a holiday card but it could do the job with a suitable message, in this case from "B.P." to Mary in Lifford, Ontario:

The message says:

Guelph Ont, Dec 5th/07 // Dear Mary:— I don’t think I sent you a card like this one before. it is a pretty place both inside and out[.] Wishing you a Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year, B.P

It sounds as though B.P. and Miss Mary Staples of Lifford had been exchanging postcards, a common way for children and adults of the time to see images of places they probably hadn't been and to have fun amassing a collection of their favorite cards. (A hobby that can be carried on today, I should add!)

So, what kind of Xmas did Guelph have in 1907? Was it merry?

From the cooking advice given by Miss Watson, it might seem like the children of the Royal City did not have a good time. However, we learn that some managed to entertain themselves in a time-honored fashion by toboganning down the sidewalk on Neeve street after a big snowfall. Though fun for the participants, the practice did not meet with general approval (Mercury, 17 December):

Naturally some objections were raised, and the boys were asked to keep off the sidewalk, with the result that retorts were made, advising the sojourning of the parties in a land where snow is not known and sleds utterly useless.

Police were summoned and four of the boys appeared before the magistrate, who let them off with a warning and an admonition to have their parents administer justice via a hickory stick. The paper does not record if this was done.

In another sign of times, a group of young women were observed walking through the town in male garb (4 December):

A couple of charming young ladies last night made their debut in that attire, consisting of Christy, trowsers and coat, which is usually conceded to be part of the male make up. The young lady gentlemen were from one of the local hotels and, with their hands in their pockets, curls stuck under Derbys, and chaperoned by a couple of men friends, they made a parade of the main streets to the astonishment of the natives who happened to be abroad and the entertainment of the young men on the street corners. This disguise was not carried so far as to include the wearing of overcoats, and the masqueraders could not have found it pleasant. They were thoroughly chilled.

Presumably, they were not attending the Women's Institute convention. But, although chilly, it does sound somewhat merry.

The weather in December 1907 was generally quite wintery. There was quite a blizzard on the 14th, which blew snow up into high drifts and immobilized the streetcar system for several hours. The street railway prepared and opened up the outdoor rink that it usually operated on Howitt's pond, near the the system's main building. The same site featured change rooms and a toboggan slide.

(The Petrie Rink, Gymnasium and Baths; Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2014.84.2.)

The team of the Guelph Hockey Club prepared for a new season. Local players worked on their skating legs on the frozen pond at Goldie's Mill. The Royal City rink, at the intersection of Gordon and Wellington streets, had recently been enlarged and was ready for more games and up to 1,600 spectators. (The rink had begun life as the Petrie Athletic Park in 1897, was turned into a cream separator factory in 1901, and then back into a recreational facility earlier in 1907.)

(Tommy Burns, ca. 1912. Courtesy of Library and Archives Canada 3191889.)

Besides winter events, Guelph was also linked, albeit somewhat tenuously, with the world heavyweight title boxing match in London, England, between "Gunner" Moir and Tommy Burns. Burns was born as Noah Brusso in Hannover, Ontario, and became a professional boxer in 1904, adopting the Scottish moniker "Tommy Burns" perhaps for professional reasons. He clearly had a talent for it and became world champion in 1906. On 2 December 1907, he fought British boxer "Gunner" Moir in a title defence. Though Moir was the bigger man with a harder punch, Burns's "ringcraft" served him well and he soundly defeated Moir by a KO in the 10th round.

A film of the whole fight can be seen on YouTube, along with an added commentary track. There is also a video of selected highlights, which is much shorter.

The connection with Guelph? In February, 1907, Burns had been to Guelph to put on an exhibition of boxing at the Royal Opera House with his sparring partner Jimmy Burns of Toronto. Burns was a former resident of Galt, so he was able to drop by there to visit his parents during the outing.

In addition, the Toronto Globe (2 December) reported that Burns sent the following message just before the fight to Alderman Higgins of Guelph, manager of the Royal Opera House: "Am defending the world’s championship against Gunner Moir, and will fight to bring home the money and honors.” So, it seems that Burns retained a connection with the Royal City after his recent visit. No doubt, many Guelphites read the account of his fight with great interest.

("The Bell Organ and Piano Co., Ltd., Factory, Guelph, Ont." published by Valentine & Sons Publishing Co., Ltd., ca. 1905. Courtesy of the Keleher collection. The front of the Royal Hotel can be seen to the right of the factory, facing onto Carden street. Jubilee Park is visible in the foreground, now the site of the VIA station.)

One thing that stands out to anyone reviewing the events of Xmas time in Guelph, 1907, is the number of big fires. On 5 December, a "dangerous" fire broke out in the Royal Hotel, next to the Bell Piano factory on Carden street. The fire started in the cellar and soon seemed to have hold of the entire building. It was said that smoke was soon pouring out every window. Business travelers, with whom the hotel was popular, immediately smashed many of the ground floor windows to eject their trunks and other wares. One man named Tracey had 14 trunks with him, all of which he managed to save in this manner.

A number of women were trapped by the smoke on the third floor. One made ready to throw herself out but was persuaded to wait for a ladder rescue. This was duly accomplished by Assistant Chief John Aitkens of the London fire brigade, who, for whatever reason, happened to be on hand. After the fire was doused, Aitkens went to the cellar to investigate its cause, when he was arrested by a police constable! Happily, he was well known about the town and was quickly released.

Though damage was considerable, no one was seriously hurt.

(The Taylor-Forbes factory, as seen looking northward from the Neeve street bridge, from a real photo postcard dated 1919; courtesy of the Keleher collection. The Guelph standpipe can be seen in the background.)

On 9 December, there was a blaze in a shipping building of the Taylor-Forbes plant on Arthur street. Mr. James Taylor noted smoke pouring from the structure and called it in to the fire department. The fire was quite intense as a pile of seasoned timber in the structure ignited and made for some very dense smoke. It was difficult for the fire fighters to get into the building, so they cut holes in the roof and gable ends to train water on the flames.

The fire was put out in a couple of hours but the company lost quite a bit of finished products, mainly lawn mowers, radiators, and similar items.

Another serious fire occured in St. George's Square in the boot-and-shoe store of "J. Dandeno" on 22 December. Mr. Dandeno had been cleaning up and oiling the floor, a measure taken to keep wooden flooring in good shape. He left a lit lamp on the landing of the stairs when he exited through the rear door. When the door slammed shut, it caused a rush of air that upset the lamp, which tumbled down and set the floor oil on fire. The flames quickly climbed the stairs, threatening to set the whole building—and its neighbors—ablaze.

(East side of St. George's Square, ca. 1910. Joseph Dandeno's shoe store would have been where Alex Stewart's drug store is in this photograph. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2009.32.4536.)

Mrs. Dandeno ran up the stairs, through the flames, to rescue the children, which she was able to do through a rear window, with the assistance of some passers-by. She and two children were slightly burned and treated at the hospital.

The fire brigade had the fire out in about 45 minutes, and managed to save the surrounding buildings from much damage. Still, the Dandeno's losses were about $6,400, only half of which was covered by insurance.

This J. Dandeno was very likely Joseph Dandeno, a local boy who had worked as a piano finisher at Bell's Piano factory since about 1889. Only in the 1908 city directory is he listed as associated with a shoe store, suggesting that he had only recently gone into the trade before the fire struck. Evidently, the loss and shock were enough to prompt Dandeno to move to Providence, Rhode Island, the next year, where he lived for the remainder of his life.

("Photograph, Rotary Club of Guelph, Lionel O'Keeffe, 1921." George Scroggie is standing fifth from the left in the front row. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, 2014.84.282.)

Despite these serious fires, Guelph escaped a general conflagration. However, it was consumed by an unusual scandal that year. It came to light that month that George Scroggie, the City Treasurer, was collecting two rents for one of the residences that he owned in the city. In brief, Scroggie rented out a modest residence on Durham street to a Mrs. Fisher, an elderly black woman who was described as "a well-known character" (Mercury, 20 December). Mrs. Fisher was destitute and relied to a large degree on the generosity of her friends and neighbors. As such, her rent of $4/month was covered by the City's Relief Committee. However, Mrs. Fisher was also staunchly independent and preferred to pay her own way as much as she could manage. As such, she had been paying some rent money to Scroggie, even though the city covered the full amount.

So, it seemed as though Scroggie was collecting rent twice, once from the city and again (in part) from the destitute Mrs. Fisher. Naturally, when this situation came to general notice, it looked bad for Scroggie. The Relief Committee of the city council investigated and learned the particulars. They learned that Mrs. Fisher was perfectly aware that her rent was paid by the committee but was determined to contribute to it as much as possible. They learned from Scroggie that he was saving the money that Mrs. Fisher paid to him in this way with the idea of remitting it to the city at the end of the year.

Was this odd situation even a matter for the city government? After all, rent for the residence was paid by the committee to Scroggie as per their express arrangement. If Mrs. Fisher wanted to pay him further money out of her own pocket, knowing that her rent was fully covered, perhaps that was simply her affair. However, the committee felt it had to do something, as rumors about the situation had been spreading like wildfire.

When the committee offered to pay Mrs. Fisher the money she had given to Scroggie, and which he had remitted to the city, she refused (Mercury, 24 December):

The amount of these payments, about $20, which Mr. Scroggie has stated his willingness to pay, was offered to her, but she refused point blank to accept it. She is a very eccentric old lady, and independently maintains that she will be dependent upon charity no more than she possibly can.

So, the committee arranged for the funds to put in the hands of a trustee to be used on Mrs. Fisher's behalf when the need arose. This arrangement met the approval of the editor of the Mercury, who remarked that she would certainly need the support before the winter was out.

("Winter Fair Buildings, Guelph." Published by Henry Garner Living Picture Postcard Co., Leister England; posted in 1909. Now the site of the Market square; note the old city hall at the left.)

Since its founding in 1827, Guelph was a central point in local agriculture, a role that was enlarged with the founding of the OAC in 1874. In 1889, the Royal City became the permanent site of the Ontario Provincial Winter Fair, in which the finest live stock, poultry, produce, and other agricultural items were displayed and judged. The year 1907 was no exception, with the Winter Fair building on Carden Street (now the site of the Market square) hosting a panoply of meetings and events.

("Sir Adam Beck," Watercolour, gouache, gum arabic, on ivory, by Gerald Sinclair Hayward, 1902. Courtesy of the Royal Ontario Museum, 993.209.1.)

Perhaps the biggest draw was the speech given by the Hon. Adam Beck. Although the meat of his speech was to encourage Ontario agriculturalists to pay more attention to horse breeding (Beck was a enthusiastic amateur breeder), he could not help but mention his support for the plan to connect the region's cities to a single grid, by which electricity generated at Niagara Falls would be distrubted throughout under the auspices of a government corporation. Educated at the nearby Rockwood Academy, Beck had recently been appointed the first chairman of the Hydro-electric Power Commission, dedicated to this purpose. Guelph, like most cities in the region, was about to vote on by-laws that would commit them to the scheme. Government control, Beck argued, would ensure that the resource was developed and made available with the public interest at heart, rather than as a money-making scheme of private providers. The next month, Guelph, along with almost all municipalities in the region, voted resoundingly in favor.

Despite the success of the Winter Fair, the biggest agricultural news that winter in Guelph was the victory of the OAC stocking judging team at the International Livestock Show in Chicago the previous month. A team of students from the OAC won the overall event there for the third year in a row, which entitled them to take permanent possession of the Spoor Trophy, in the form of a bronze bull. The win was considered a national victory, which I have described in a previous post.

The real photo postcard above shows students from the OAC celebrating their triumph by painting the Blacksmith Fountain in red and white, the OAC colors, during a victory parade. The Blacksmith retained his new livery for the holidays, though it was soon removed by a city crew.

("James Gow," ca. 1880. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums, M1991.9.1.149.)

Guelph received an item of sad news during Xmas 1907 as well. Mr. James Gow, described by the Mercury (21 December) as "one of the most lovable men who ever lived in Guelph," passed away at his residence in Windsor, Ontario (Mercury, 21 December). Born in 1827 in Glasgow, Scotland, Gow had emigrated to Canada in 1851, settling first in Hamilton but then moving to a farm in Eramosa. In town, he struck up a partnership with Peter Gow (not a relation or, at least, an immediate one), in the form of P. & J. Gow, tanners and leather merchants. In 1866, the partnership was dissolved and Gow had a storehouse built on Huskisson street (now Wyndham street south) to carry on the business in his own name. However, he was then appointed to the office of Collector of the Inland Revenue in Guelph.

Ten years later, he was transferred to the office at Windsor and then made Inspector of the Windsor District and Dominion Inspector of Distilleries, an appointment he held until retirement in 1902. Although he had been away from Guelph for some 30 years, we are told that his inspections brought him regularly to his old haunts and that he kept in close contact with old friends and family members who remained in the Royal City.

On the whole, it seems that Xmas and New Year's in Guelph in 1907 was merry enough, though not remarkably so. It was neither especially memorable but not without notable news and events. Perhaps the season is epitomized by the following item from the Mercury (28 December):

Drank 21 beers

This is the story which is going the rounds today. The employees of a certain factory last night decided to test the drinking capacity of one of their number—a colored gent. Accordingly they hied themselves to the nearest dispensary of warming drink, and then this man of mighty thirst got on the outside of 21 beers—not small beers, or short beers, or ordinary beers, but 21 big pint schooners of lager. He walked home afterwards but was not at work today.

No doubt, speakers with the Women's Institute would not have approved but such were the spirits of Xmas in Guelph in 1907.

Merry Xmas and Happy 2025, Guelph!

Speedwell stations: The Prison Farm's forgotten train stops

Some time ago, Bob Keleher kindly loaned me what remained of his father's—Jim Keleher—postcard collection, which was quite extensive. Among the many cards of note was a real-photo postcard with the label, "Guelph Hospital, D.S.C.R., March 1919" written in pencil on the back.

("Guelph Hospital, D.S.C.R., March 1919," real photo postcard. Courtesy of the Jim Keleher collection.)

My first thought was that this notation was rather mysterious: There is certainly no hospital depicted in the image. "D.S.C.R." meant nothing to me at that point. So, I filed the image away with a mental note to revisit it sometime later.

I came across it again recently. Having become better acquainted with the Guelph scene of the early 20th century in the meantime, I recognized what I was looking at. It is a view taken from the concrete bridge over the Eramosa River at the Speedwell train station, or stations. The D.S.C.R. stands for "Department of Soldiers' Civil Re-establishment," the governemnt agency in charge of demobilizating soldiers from the Great War. They ran the Speedwell Hospital, a facility to help returned soldiers to recuperate and prepare for civilian life once more, that was formerly the "Prison Farm" or, later, the Ontario Reformatory.

This image is interesting for a number of reasons. First, it depicts the Speedwell train stations, which is the first pictures of them that I have seen. The careful viewer will observe that there are several structures in view on the left side of the picture. The closest one is, I believe, the station built by the Toronto Suburban Railway (TSR), a private railway that provided a regular, electrified streetcar service between Toronto and Guelph (as one of its several routes). The line opened in 1917 and ran until 1931.

The TSR had a flag stop across the Eramosa from the Reformatory. It's not clear that this connection was used much by people to go to and from the Prison. However, it does seem that the TSR did a good business hauling milk from the Reformatory's dairy herd to Toronto. Such "milk runs" from local towns to the Big Smoke were a regular part of its business.

(Detail of "Guelph Hospital" postcard above. The TSR's Speedwell station is in the right foreground, while behind it from this perspective stands the CPR's Speedwell station. A farmhouse and barn are visible at the top of the cliff.)

The TSR's Speedwell station is certainly a modest building. But, it was clearly more than a simple shed, as attested by the chimney rising from its back wall. The presence of a stove is a sure sign that passengers would be treated to a little warmth in the winter months. Posts with guy poles can be seen at the front of the station (behind it from our perspective) and running off to the right, which provided the trains with power.

("Canadian Pacific Railway Co., Station. View of a little flag station on the CPR double track east of Smiths Falls;" courtesy of Ingenium Archives, Aubrey Mattingly Transportation Collection, MAT-06233. Though not a perfect match, this picture gives us some impression of what a flag stop of the era would look like at the front.)

I do not know what became of this station. It may well have been sold and moved elsewhere when the TSR was wound up.

The second building, right behind the TSR station in the image, would be the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR) station. The TSR and CPR tracks ran parallel at that point, although they intersect away to the right where the CPR line (actually, the Guelph Junction Railway but operated by the CPR, even to this day) crosses the Eramosa while the TSR veers west to remain parallel the river.

The CPR station was built at the bridge crossing to the Reformatory in 1912, when the latter institution opened. It was a flag station, meaning that trains stopped there only when there were people or things to pick up or drop off. In the CPR timetable for 30 May 1915, the name of this stop is given as "Sturdee," presumably after Sir Frederick Charles Doveton Sturdee, a British Admiral who had recently led a successful battle against a German naval squadron in the south Atlantic. However, the name failed to stick, perhaps because the CPR already had a "Sturdee" station near Glacier in British Columbia. Instead, the 31 October 1915 timetable applies the name "Speedwell." How this name arose is not clear, although its proximity to the Eramosa River, then usually known as the "Eramosa branch of the Speed" may have been decisive.

Other structures of some interest can be seen in the picture. Above the CPR station, a house can be seen along the crest of the ridge. A barn or outbuilding is visible a little ways to its left. A farm of 32 acres, belonging to Arnold Sanders, is shown in that location in the 1908 Wellington County Atlas. The portion of the farm above the ridge, which had not been added to the Prison Farm property, was apparently still in operation.

Some of these structures can be located in a site plan of the Reformatory dated to 1921 (detail above). Curiously, the CPR's Speedwell station is indicated on the plan but not the TSR's station, although both sets of tracks are present. Did this section of the map derive from a time before the TSR station was built?

Near the centre of the postcard image, the Royal City's standpipe can be seen poking up from Grange hill on the horizon. Much of the water for the city came through a pipeline from the Arkell springs in Puslinch. The pipeline ran parallel to the CPR tracks, buried about 5m away from the side near the cliff.

Speaking of water, the perceptive viewer will have noted quite a bit of it in the foreground, apparently lapping at the back of the TSR station. Guelph suffered quite a deluge on 18 March 1919, which rendered the Dundas bridge impassible, thus sundering the city from the Agricultural College on the hill. From the look of the postcard image above, it appears that the Eramosa nearly flooded out the railway tracks at Speedwell station.

("Prison Farm"; Postcard by International Stationary Co., ca. 1915; author's collection.)

It is quite possible that the same event was recorded in another postcard, from nearly the reverse angle. Unfortunately, this other card does not show either of the railway stations.

Perhaps the biggest recorded flood to affect the Speedwell stations was the great washout of 1921. On 10 July, only days after Guelph's most disastrous fire, a massive thunderstorm roared over the town at night, unleashing a torrential downpour accompanied by hail stones the size of walnuts! The downtown was quickly submerged (London Advertiser, 11 July 1921):

The storm commenced shortly after 11 o’clock last night, and for two hours raged with a severity never witnessed here before. Without hardly a moment’s cessation the sky was brilliantly illuminated with vivid flashes of lightning during the entire storm, and deep thunder roared continuously. At midnight the downtown streets were several feet deep with water, and firemen and city employees worked up to their hips trying to keep the watermains open.

At Speedwell, rainwater poured over the cliff above the station in sheets, pushing boulders down the slope and inundating the train tracks. The water pipe burst and disgorged another torrent of the wet stuff into the scene. Unfortunately, a freight train from Hamilton, approaching Speedwell on the CPR line, ran into a section of track that had been undermined by the flood. The locomotive derailed, its tender overturned into the ditch, while the following car ended up at a 90 degree angle. No one was badly injured, however.

Naturally, hundreds of Guelphites made the trip to see the wreckage as it was being cleaned up. No photos of it have come my way, although there must be some out there.

(Locations of the former CPR and TSR Speedwell stations located on a current map of the former Reformatory grounds. Image courtesy Google Maps.)

Having survived this mini Noachian deluge, among other watery assaults, the TSR station burned to the ground on 12 November 1926, succumbing perhaps to its own heating stove. It was, to my knowledge, not replaced. Perhaps, if and when the former Reformatory grounds become a National Urban Park, the former presence of these most structures will be memorialized.

---

Actually, the Library & Archives Canada has a file entitled "The Toronto Suburban Railway Company - Lands and Leases - Matters In Connection With Speedwell Station" (1548596). Perhaps this file contains images or descriptions of the TSR Speedwell station. Next time I'm in the Capital City, I may have to have a look. Of course, if you have seen this material, let us know about it in the comments!

Better late than never: The Dundas bridge arrives in Guelph

There is an old expresson about a bridge too far. However, a bridge can also be too late, as suggested by the telegram sent by Donald Guthrie, then Guelph's solicitor, to the G. & J. Brown Manufacturing Company of Belleville (Mercury, 2 February 1892):

To G. & J. Brown, Mfg. Co., Belleville.
Do you intend to furnish the bridge to the city, and when. Answer immediately.
Don. Guthrie,
City Solicitor.

Reply:
D. Guthrie.
City Solicitor:
Your bridge will be shipped this week without fail.
W.H. Lee.

The City of Guelph had contracted the previous July with the Belleville Bridge Company (as G. & J. were also known) for an up-to-date iron bridge over the Speed River, to replace its venerable but also decrepit predecessor as a vital link between the Royal City and destinations like Hamilton to its south. Having dismantled the old span and installed piers and footings for the new one, Guelphites waited impatiently for the star of the show to arrive.

The move was not without controversy. For one thing, the contract had been let by the council without competition, prompting accusations of shady dealing. A $2,000 contract was a large sum to pay out without tenders. Also, several observers were concerned that the stonework for the bridge's foundation was not sufficient, and no city inspectors were reviewing the work. Would the bridge be set up only to sink into the Speed?

Would it arrive at all? Delivery was expected in December 1891 but the month passed with no bridge in sight. Even in the days before Amazon, this sort of delay was not acceptable. As the end of January, 1892, came into view, the Mercury editor wrote (26 January), tongue in cheek, that residents of Brooklyn, the part of town south of the Speed, was considering separating from Guelph and instituting a ferry service across the river. In general, grumbling about having to detour into town via Gow's Bridge was getting louder and the city fathers were feeling the heat; thus the telegram.

Happily, the ironwork for the bridge arrived in February and the new Dundas Bridge was open for traffic by the end of the month. The link knitted back together the sinews of the town that were strained in its absence.

("George Sleeman, 190?." Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-4-0-0-2.)

A fitting test of the new structure was soon made by Mayor George Sleeman, owner of the Sleeman brewery. Five dray loads of ale bound for Toronto were parked on the span in order to assess its performance. An admirably detailed account of the event was recorded in the Mercury (2 March 1892):

The horses, drays and their contents were weighed on the market scales, and are as follows: 1st load, horses, 3,110, load, 8,845; 2nd, 3,230, 8,930; 3rd, 3,375, 8,965; 4th, 3,405, 9,690; 5th, 3,220, 8,855, making a total of 61,025 pounds. The drays were then driven to the bridge, and placed on the centre span, where the test was witnessed by about 200 people. Including the people standing around and everything else, there was about 32 tons weight on this span. City Engineer Tout made the test and reported that there was only a deflection of 3/16ths of an inch on this span, which of course is the main one. The five dray loads were then driven over the bridge at a quick pace in file and the vibration was very slight.

The bridge passed with flying colours! If only all such tests of public infrastructure could be conducted with wagonloads of beer.

The bridge was later recorded in a postcard published by A.B. Petrie, postmarked in 1909.

("Brock Road, Guelph, Ont.," published by A.B. Petrie, ca. 1910.)

The image is not the most aesthetically pleasing one ever printed but it does show the layout of the bridge from a traveller's perspective, facing south. The three iron arches are visible on either side. To the right, a sidewalk with a high fence can be seen while, to the left, a water conduit used to supply city water to the Agricultural College on the hill is visible below the railing. The deck is smattered with horse dung.

Its connection to the south had always been a very important one for Guelph. Farmers in lots south of the city needed a bridge to bring their produce to its market when the time came, while shipping goods to and from Hamilton and Dundas was crucial for the economic goals of the settlement. So, the first Dundas Bridge (as it was often called at the time) was built in 1828, only one year after the foundation of Guelph by John Galt. This bridge was constructed under the supervision of Jehu Clark (sometimes spelled "Clarke") (1797–1879). Born in Sommersetshire, England, in 1797, Clark emigrated to New York State in 1818, later removing to Canada and arriving in Guelph in April 1828. He was put to work building the first Dundas Road bridge and also Strickland's Bridge on the Eramosa road. The next year, he worked at clearing the townsite of Goderich, returning to farm at Guelph. Around 1850, he moved into town and set up a tannery on Surrey street. Around 1871, due to ill health, he sold the tannery and retired to a cottage he had built on Water street. The 1872 list of Guelph building operations in the Mercury (18 December) describes the location as "over Dundas Bridge," a common way of referring to locations in Brooklyn at the time. He died 31 July 1879 (Mercury, 1 August 1879).

Unfortunately, there are no pictures or descriptions of this first bridge that I have come across. Neither are there any images of Jehu Clark. As the bridge lasted over 20 years, we may suppose it had stone rather than wooden footings but was topped by a wooden deck and railings. We are at liberty to imagine Jehu as we like.

The second Dundas bridge was built in 1849. This date is recorded many years later in a Mercury (17 October 1874) article detailing a lawsuit initiated by George Hood against Peter Gow. Gow owned much of the property along the Speed River west of the Dundas Bridge and had a dam across it to provide water for his mill. George Hood owned property upstream along the Eramosa and was suing Gow for flooding his land due to excessive water level rise resulting from the dam. Happily for us (but not for Hood), several witnesses who testified at the court case had worked on the Dundas bridges in prior years. Jehu Clark, for example, was called to the stand and testified that he had worked on the "old Dundas bridge." Then, Richard Ainley told the court that he had the contract for the bridge in 1849. So, via subtraction, we can calculate that the original bridge built by Clark had lasted 21 years before being replaced.

("View from the Cutten Club, ca. 1872." Courtesy of Guelph Public Library, F38-0-14-0-0-487.)

Luckily, the second bridge can be seen in the photograph above of a view of Guelph from the south. The bridge sits in the middle of the image. Stone abutments, two stone piers and railings can be made out. St. Bartholomew's Church (predecessor of the Church of Our Lady) can be seen on the top of the Catholic Hill. The scene is considerably different from today's as the land near the bridge is without any trees and there is no boathouse across the road.

Richard Ainley (1814–1884) was born in Yorkshire, England on 31 December 1814 and immigrated to Canada with his family at age nine, first residing at Rice Lake and then locating to Guelph in 1831, where he spent the rest of his life (Mercury, 19 August 1884). He was a carpenter and builder and appears to have done well, accumulating enough money to retire a number of years before his death in 1884.

Besides his work on the 1849 Dundas bridge, Ainley was the framer of the Royal City's first purpose-built store in 1842. He also worked as a lumber merchant and filled a number of civic jobs including fence viewer and constable.

By his retirement, Ainley had set himself up well. For an auction of his estate in 1887 (Mercury, 21 July), we read the following description of his primary residence at 146 Norfolk Street:

“Crescent Vale,” the late residence, is a very commodious, well built, two story white brick, eight rooms, easily heated, large cellar, hard and soft water, suitable out-buildings. There is a splendid fruit garden, upwards of one hundred well cared-for fruit trees and grape vines, all choicest varieties pears, apples and cherries, black, red, and white currants, black, red and white raspberries, gooseberries, strawberries in abundance. Beautiful cedar hedge, ornamental trees.

It sounds like Ainley had quite a green thumb!

The name "Crescent Vale" derives, no doubt, from the fact that the property bordered on the corner of Norfolk street and Nelson's Crescent, the latter a street now largely occupied by the current site of the Guelph Public Library, Main branch.

The construction of the second bridge in 1849 may have been prompted by serious improvements made to the Dundas road by the governments of the Wellington and Gore districts starting in 1848. The old road provided a notoriously bone-jarring ride, so the new, macadamized surface would greatly facilitate trade and travel to the south.

Unforunately, paying for the improvements and upkeep of the new road proved burdensome and the commission running the bridge set up a toll booth at the corner of the Dundas road and what is now College avenue to collect a fee to defray costs. This toll proved to be highly unpopular and led to the construction of Gow's bridge as free alternative.

Travellers often tried to evade the toll, sometimes with deleterious consequences, as noted in this story from the Guelph Advertiser (6 August 1864):

A pleasure ride and what happened.—Two young men, named C. Pratt and A. Smith, with Mrs. Pratt, Mrs. Rynard, and Miss Sarah Chatterson, started for a drive to Puslinch, to pay a visit to some friends. Returning about nine o’clock they drove through the toll-gate on the Dundas road, without stopping to pay the toll. The keeper of the toll-gate, Mr. John Hockin, immediately came up with them as they were entering on the Dundas Bridge. He at once hailed them, but receiving only laughter to his questions, he seized the horses by the head in order to stop their progress. Not being able to accomplish this he had to let go his hold. By this time the horses had become restive, and before they had proceeded many yards the buggy was overturned in the ditch. The men escaped without injury, but Miss Chatterton had her leg broken, and Mrs. Rynard was more or less injured. The buggy, a handsome double one, was smashed to pieces, but the horses escaped uninjured. One of the men struck Mr. Hockin three times on the face. The horses were taken charge of by the toll-gate keeper, who has taken them in safe keeping.

So, use of the Dundas bridge was long associated in the minds of locals with the unwelcome ceremony of paying a toll.

However, interactions of residents and horses at the second bridge were sometimes of a more comic nature, as illustrated by the following account in the Mercury (13 June 1891):

There was considerable excitement in the neighbourhood of the Dundas bridge yesterday. A blind horse, owned by a bill poster, strayed into the river. Two or three who came to the rescue secured a ducking in trying to get the animal out. The best of the joke was that it freed itself from them all and gained terra firma without assistance.

Happy or sad, the second bridge was certainly showing its age after more than 40 years. And so, residents began to call for a third bridge, as described above.

Bridges are significant places in many ways. They connect places that are otherwise separated, providing new opportunties, for good or ill. They are also a focus of activity of various kinds in themselves, and serve as landmarks by which residents understand their settlements. All these things are very true of the Dundas bridge, which has always been central to living and moving in Guelph.

("Streetcar in front of George Sleeman's Home on Waterloo [ave] 1905." The fender on the front of this car was designed to mitigate collisions with pedestrians and were added in light of incidents like the one described below. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 2009.32.6028.)

For example, the electric streetcar system was built by George Sleeman in 1895, with a route laid down over the bridge to connect it to the Agricultural College on College Hill. This meant that students at the College could more easily make trips to the city, and for students and employees of the College to commute to work. Of course, it also posed a new danger for residents and visitors to Brooklyn. On 19 October 1896, Mrs. Truckle was out shopping with her grandson Charles at a store south of the bridge when the lad wandered out and in front of a streetcar (Globe, 20 October). Mrs. Truckle rushed to his rescue but was struck and crushed by the vehicle. She succeeded, however, in saving Charles, who suffered only minor injuries. This was the first fatal incident involving the new streetcar system.

The bridge was associated with many recreational activities, especialy boating because of the boat houses that were installed nearby, culminating in Johnson's boathouse, which does a good business in tea, ice cream and boat rentals today. See my earlier blog post for more on this topic.

("Men's Curling Match, 1881-82." A composite photograph with hand-drawn scenery, signed "C. Hetherington, Guelph." Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1981X.282.1.)

The confluence of the Speed and Eramosa rivers just upstream of the bridge invited curling in winter. Of course, outdoor matches could be unpredictable. On one occasion, three rinks from Toronto had arrived in the Royal City to play the locals on the river by the Dundas bridge but rain made the conditions unsuitable for "scientific playing," so the group retired to the local indoor rink (Mercury, 27 January 1879). It seems that outdoor curling retained its charm in that era while indoor rinks were something of a last resort.

Skating was another popular pastime that was enjoyed informally on the river near the bridge. The Mercury made note of an "extraordinary" skater who was seen enjoying the activity at that site (23 February 1880):

... A boy named McTague, who had one of his legs amputated near the hip three or four years ago, in consequence of a railway accident, has learned to skate, and on Sunday displayed his knowledge of the art to the amusement of not a few. He only uses one skate and supports the side from which his leg has been removed by a sharp pointed crutch. Though his movements are not particularly graceful he hops over the ice almost as quickly as an ordinary skater, and seems to derive equal amusement.

Swimming was another popular activity near Guelph's bridges, which I have covered in other posts. In this respect, Gow's bridge seems to have been favored for its swimming potential. Dundas bridge was sometimes a haven from the sight of naked youth cavorting in the river downstream (Mercury, 5 August 1887):

Bathing at Gow’s bridge.—Numerous are the complaints that are made about young men and boys bathing at Gow’s bridge in broad daylight and in the evening. They run around the bridge, and dive from the parapet as naked as the day they were born and the language they use is most offensive beyond imagination. Ladies living on the other side of the river, and whose direct road home is over this bridge, are compelled to walk around by Dundas bridge. This state of things ought not to be, and the police authorities should see to it at once.

In the days before swimming lessons and PFDs, swimming could be hazardous also (Mercury, 27 August 1923):

Pulled boy out of river

On Friday evening while Mr. Dan Anderson, Verney Street, was passing along to Gordon Street, near the Dundas Bridge, he heard a boy calling for help. On investigating he found a youngster about 12 years old struggling in the water near the bridge. Mr. Anderson fished the lad out, and when asked for his name the youth took to his heels.

Fishing was also enjoyed in the vicinity of the bridge. This common activity drew little attention in the media except when something unusual happened. The Mercury (8 August 1890) notes that the Rev. W.T. Minter, minister of Guelph's British Methodist Episcopal church—a focus of Guelph's black community—who was "enjoying a quiet fish on the river above the Dundas bridge yesterday, was grossly insulted by a boat-load of young men, who swore at him and used other disgraceful language." Fishing While Black? When the Reverend laid a complaint with the police, one of the youths approached him and apologized, asking him not to press the matter. "He represented that they belonged to the best families of the city, which may be true in one sense, and that it would come hard on them to be publicly prosecuted." Minter agreed provided that the rest of the party apologize similarly. It is not clear that they did.

Besides its proximity to the water, the Dundas bridge was a landmark due to the presence of large fields next to it. Called variously the "flats," "field," or "commons" near the Dundas bridge, what I will call the "Dundas bridge flats" for convenience seems to have been the low-lying land north of the river extending from the bridge to Edinburgh road.

(Detail of "Map, Town of Guelph, 1862." The Dundas bridge flats was an informal name for the north bank of the Speed extending roughly from that bridge to Edinburgh road, and up to Bedford and Bristol streets. Courtesy of Guelph Civic Museums 1981X.233.1.)

The flats did seem to be regarded as a commons, that is, as a place where anyone might hold an event that had some kind of public purpose. For example, Mr. Wm. S.G. Knowles held an auction there of various conveyances of particular interest to farmers (Herald, 19 November 1850):

One very superior double-seated buggy; three single ditto; six very strong wagons, for teaming or farming purposes; four single-horse wagons, (two with steel springs;) seven double-horse sleighs; three pleasure ditto; two cutters; two pair of harrows; seven wheelbarrows, and a pair of blacksmith’s bellows. The above articles are new, and made by experienced workmen. Also, 2 beautiful horses, 1 milch cow, 3 sets of harness, saddle, bridle, &c.

Cash sales preferred!

(John B. Doris’ Great Inter-Ocean Museum, Menagerie & Circus. Cincinnati: Strobridge, ca. 1883.)

The visitation of traveling circuses was always a big event in early Guelph and, manytimes, the big top was set up on the Dundas bridge flats. On 16 July 1885, for intance, the John B. Doris Circus arrived and put up their tents there. The customary parade through the town was held and the Mercury reported that this was headed by "a very creditable band" and featured a menagerie of rare specimens of animals. The Mercury report says little else but the Globe (20 June) provides a more fulsome description of the offerings of this "Mammoth aggregation":

The Mammoth Fifty Cage Menagerie, comprising the largest and most varied collection of rare wild beasts, etc., received from all quarters of the globe, making one of the grandest zoological institutes travelling. The grand Gigantean Three-Ring Circus is comprised of all the leading excellence, equestrians, equestriennes, ten celebrated clowns, gymnasts, leapers, fourteen real brawny Turks, troupe of French bicycle riders, leapers, tumblers, acrobats, Siberian roller skaters, Japanese equilibrists, etc.

No corner of the globe went unmolested in bringing this show to Guelph! What could be more exotic than Siberbian roller skaters?

Sometimes, the locals put on their own shows, impromptu (Mercury, 24 August 1885):

A pugilistic encounter.—A most disgraceful fight took place on Sunday afternoon on the commons near Dundas bridge between two men whose names are given as Keough and O’Brien. The altercation took place on Macdonnell street, and the parties concerned, decided to go to the place above mentioned and fight it out. It is said that the fight lasted for about ten minutes in the presence of a large crowd of people, none of whom interfered to stop the brutal contestants. Both parties got a good pommelling.

Disgraceful though it was, it seems that the editors of the very English Guelph Mercury could not refrain from publishing an account of a donnybrook between two Irishmen. We are told that the affray was judged not by a referee but aftewards in police court.

Flooding was always a hazard, particularly in the spring when rain and snow melt might combine to produce a deluge of water down Guelph's rivers. Although large floods typically caused a great deal of damage to businesses and homes in the area, the result could be of aesthetic interest nonetheless, as in 1897 (Mercury, 22 March):

The whole flats presented the appearance of a lake. The trees were surrounded by water; the boat house had the appearance of a ship at sea, and ex-Alderman Slater’s, near Wells’ bridge, looked as if it was to be submerged.

With dredging and flood control measures in place, such scenes of nature's watery bounty are no longer to be enjoyed by the Royal City's residents.

("Gordon street bridge, 1931." Four young ladies pose on the bridge railing. Courtesy of Guelph Public Library F38-0-15-0-0-420.)

Though it arrived late, the third Dundas bridge remained a fixture of the city for many years. Inevitably, tested by the elements and ever increasing traffic, this bridge was replaced in 1938 with an up-to-date concrete structure. Arthur Sedgewick, chief engineer of the Ontario Department of Highways, cut the ribbon at the opening ceremonies.

By this time, the name "Dundas bridge" had itself been replaced with the handle "Gordon street bridge." Perhaps, the significance of the bridge's connection to Gordon street to the north prevailed over its connection to Dundas road to the south, as the importance of Dundas as a destination slipped into the past.

This bridge served for many years but was itself replaced in 2001 with the bridge now familiar to Guelphites. With its location along the route connecting the Royal Recreational Trail and the Boathouse Tea Room, the bridge continues to serve as an important connection and a significant place in town life.